


The Senior Rule

by rose_malmaison



Category: NCIS
Genre: Bad!Senior, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Party, DiNozzo Senior - Freeform, Established Relationship, Gibbs vs. Senior, Gibbs' House, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, M/M, Party, Past Sexual Abuse, Protective!Gibbs, Snowing - Freeform, Team as Family, greed - Freeform, hurt!Tony, minor surgery at home, things do not go as planned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/pseuds/rose_malmaison
Summary: Senior barges into Gibbs' home on Christmas Eve, as he and Tony are preparing for a party, but Tony, who has been injured, isn’t feeling the love. Jethro and the team to the rescue.
Relationships: Anthony DiNozzo/Jethro Gibbs
Comments: 38
Kudos: 512





	1. Let There Be Light

**Author's Note:**

> This is my amnesty story for the 2019 NCIS Advent Challenge at ncis-discuss. Themes: Family/Unexpected guests/ Holiday lights/ Mistletoe/ Holiday beverages/ Snow/ Holiday dinner or party.  
> Dedicated to: Jacie for all her hard work with challenges and for being a great beta!
> 
> Warning - mention of Tony being abused and raped as a child. Otherwise it's a happy story! Except for Senior.

※÷※÷※÷※÷※

CHAPTER 1 - Let There Be Light

_Rule #1225 aka The Senior Rule: Do not allow Anthony DiNozzo Sr. into our house, for any reason._

Stringing Christmas lights along the front porch roof was usually Jethro’s job, but a fresh snowfall had dumped a foot of powdery snow across the DC area. Shoveling the drive and front path took precedence over decorating. As soon as he had cleared away the snow, Jethro went inside to check on the progress of the large stuffed turkey he was roasting for their Christmas Eve dinner party.

So, while Jethro was in the kitchen putting last-minute touches to the holiday dinner, Tony decided to go outside and put up the lights, all on his own. He wanted to do it as a surprise for Jethro, so he called out he had some gifts to wrap and would be upstairs, and instead grabbed his coat and gloves, and snuck out the front. He untangled the string of multi-colored lights, and tested them prior to climbing the ladder. A dozen clips for attaching the string of lights to the edge of the roof nestled safely in his pocket.

It had started snowing again – just small, delicate flakes that wouldn’t amount to anything, according to the weatherman – but everyone confirmed they were coming over to celebrate Christmas Eve at Tony and Jethro’s home in Alexandria. This was their first party since they’d come out as a couple – just to their friends – and Tony could tell that Jethro was looking forward to playing host.

They were supplying a stuffed roast turkey along with a selection of wine and other holiday beverages, and the guests were bringing side dishes, desserts and drinks of their choice. Abby and Jimmy had come over that morning and spent an hour putting up decorations in the living and dining rooms. They’d nudged each other and giggled over a couple of well-placed mistletoe sprigs. So, all that was left to do was hang the outside lights. How hard could it be?

Well, it would be easy for someone fit and in good health. Unfortunately, as Tony discovered once he was standing on the ladder ten feet above the ground, that he was not in good enough shape to do this. Every time he reached out to secure the lights to the roof, he felt a twinge in his right side. He did his best to ignore it. He had to get this done.

Tony wanted to prove to Jethro that he was ready to return to work in the new year. He _needed_ to do this. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it when his partner took care of him, but the incessant fussing had become increasingly annoying. Although he’d tried to be patient, Tony had snapped at Jethro that morning when he’d tried to assist him with dressing. Okay, so maybe bending over and tying his shoes was still problematic, but that’s why they made loafers.

He was determined to prove he could function just fine without someone shadowing his every move. Jethro watched him like a hawk, as if he expected him to fall flat on his face when doing something simple like reaching for the TV remote. But once Tony had climbed the ladder, with its rungs made slippery with a coating of snow, he got the uneasy feeling that maybe this was not his brightest idea. He considered climbing down, but refused to give in. Damn it, he was going to get these lights strung if it was the last thing he did. He’d better hurry and finish the job because if Jethro discovered him out here he’d blow a gasket.

All that was needed was a couple more clips and he’d be done, and if he reached a bit further… "Ow!" Tony gasped at a tearing pain in his side, and dropped the end of the string of lights. The clips tumbled from his hand and fell, disappearing into the deep snow beneath the ladder. "Damn," he exclaimed in frustration. “Okay, take deep breaths,” he muttered to himself. _Remain calm, you have more clips in your pocket. Suck it up and finish the job_. _Tony DiNozzo is not a quitter._ The pain receded and became a dull throb so, once again, he pulled a clip out of his pocket and reached for the dangling lights.

"Hey, what're you doing up there?" a booming voice asked from down below.

Startled, Tony twisted to see who was speaking, and he wobbled, his foot slipped, his arms flailed as he fell off the ladder, right into a deep bank of white, fluffy snow. He landed on his back, and although he was dazed from the impact, he was pretty sure he hadn’t broken anything. At least he hadn't fallen on something hard like the cement walkway.

As Tony lay there trying to catch his breath, aware that his side was not only painful, but now felt warm and wet, the man who had spoken to him appeared in his line of sight. The guy was bundled up against the inclement weather, wearing a heavy coat, a hat pulled down low and a scarf muffling the lower part of his face.

“Who are…?”

"Junior? Why are you fooling around down there?"

Tony blinked as snowflakes landed on his eyelashes. "Dad?"

“Here, get up out of that snow,” Senior said, grabbing Tony’s arm and hauling him into a seated position. Tony cried out in pain and his father snapped, “For God’s sake, Junior, stop making a fuss. C’mon, get up so I can get inside. It’s damned cold out here.”

When his dad pulled at his arm again, Tony said loudly, “Don’t!” The minute Senior released him, Tony fell back in the snow with a groan.

“What’s wrong with you?” Senior stepped back and frowned at Tony.

“Nothing. I’m… making… snow angels,” Tony said through gritted teeth. _Jethro, where are you?_

Right on cue, the front door opened and Jethro hurried to his side. “Tony!”

“I’m okay… just… winded. I’m fine,” he said defensively, even though the concern in Jethro’s eyes made him feel a little bit guilty. Okay, more than a little.

“I tried to help him up,” Senior said defensively, “but he was purposely making himself heavy. He always did that as a child.”

Jethro ignored Senior and said directly to Tony, “Let’s get you in the house.” He slipped one strong arm behind Tony’s back and slowly got him to his feet.

Tony wrapped his left arm around Jethro’s shoulders and held his right arm tight against his body. It helped stave off the pain, a little. By the time Jethro had assisted him up the front steps and inside, Tony was breathing hard and feeling dizzy. Carefully, Jethro lowered Tony onto the living room couch – the brand new one they had picked out together that was wide enough to sleep upon. Once he was sure Tony was okay sitting, Jethro inspected Tony’s eyes as he felt his head for any lumps. Apparently there weren’t any, but that didn’t stop Mother Hen Gibbs from helping Tony remove his coat so he could check out his limbs and make sure he hadn’t broken any bones.

Finally, in order to distract Jethro before he saw the fresh blood that _had_ to be seeping through his sweater by now, Tony jerked his chin towards where Senior stood in the entryway. “You invited him in?”

Jethro narrowed his eyes and growled, “You think I’d do that?”

Tony shook his head. “No. Course not.” They’d made an agreement that neither of them would ever invite Senior to their home. Rule #1225, or ‘The Senior Rule,’ they called it.

Besides, Senior had no idea that his son was gay, or that he’d been sleeping with his boss for the past two years, or that he’d been living with him for a year now. He didn’t need to know any of this; it was none of his business.

Jethro straightened and asked Senior, “So why’re you here?”

Senior puffed his chest out, affronted at Jethro’s tone. “I can’t visit my own son on Christmas Eve?”

Both Jethro and Tony replied, “No!” at the same time, which was funny enough that Tony snorted. Tony’s father had been around briefly at Thanksgiving, once, and that had been as awkward as hell. He had arrived unexpectedly a couple of times, sticking his nose in where it wasn’t wanted, always with some ulterior motive. The worst experience was when Tony’s teammates had actually invited Senior to their NCIS Christmas party, as a surprise, despite the fact Tony had made it clear to one and all he was not on the best of terms with his father. Their intentions may have been good, but Tony shuddered inwardly at the memories.

“I went out of my way to visit you but strangers were at your condo. They said you’d sold it to them,” Senior said, sounding peevish. “Where are you living now?”

Tony didn’t respond. He’d sold his condo months ago, and had given a PO box as his forwarding address. He should have guessed that the old man would turn up at Gibbs’ house, looking for him. The problem was, the last thing Tony wanted was for Senior to find out about him and Jethro.

Ever since Tony had revealed to Jethro why he didn’t trust his father, and his reasons for not wanting him around, Jethro had sworn he’d never let the man anywhere near Tony, not ever again. Only now, Senior was standing in their home, shaking snow off his hat and it looked like he was about to take off his outerwear and make himself at home.

“Hold it right there,” Jethro warned. “What d’you want?” he asked baldly.

Apparently even outright hostility wasn’t enough to shake Senior’s façade. He put on his benevolent face and smiled warmly. “I came to see Junior, to wish him a Merry Christmas. I brought a gift,” he said, holding up a mid-sized gift-wrapped box, as if that made everything all right.

“No,” Jethro said, putting his foot down.

“Excuse me?”

“I said no. Get out of my house,” Jethro said impatiently.

“Really! I can’t believe the way you’re treating me! And what gives you the right to prevent me from seeing my son? Why, Junior and I…”

Jethro stalked right up to Senior, who quickly backed up a few steps in the face of Jethro’s ire. Jethro got right in his face and warned, “If you ever call him ‘Junior’ again, I am going to use my combat knife to slice you from stem to stern, and then I’ll drag your sorry carcass by the entrails out to the hills and leave it for the coyotes to finish off.”

Even from across the room, Tony could see his father grow pale.

Senior spluttered, “Well, I never…”

“Do you understand?” Jethro demanded, in his best Marine voice.

Senior raised his hands and backed away, but he craned his neck so he could look around the angry man and see his son. “Anthony, how can you just sit there and let this man threaten me? This is highly irregular, and I told you years ago you need to get a new job, away from this tyrant and…”

Tony got to his feet and said sharply, “Dad, put a cork in it. Please leave right now. And Jethro, get over here. I need…” Suddenly Tony felt hot and a little lightheaded. He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and swayed a little. “I need…”

Jethro was at Tony’s side, supporting him. “I got you.”

Senior pulled a sheaf of papers from his coat pocket and held them out. Sounding desperate, he said, “I need you to sign these papers, son, right away. There was a mess-up at the bank, a slight misunderstanding, and they need to be signed and sealed before the year’s end or else the account–”

Despite his vow not to talk to his father, Tony asked, “What’re you talking about? My mother’s account?”

“Well, there was a mistake, son, and in her delusion, near the end, apparently she made you a joint owner. The discrepancy just came to light and, of course, the lawyers and bank managers asked me to obtain–”

Tony knew the account he was talking about. It was a considerable amount of money that had been held in trust for him, for when he turned thirty-five. Considering he’d hit that age earlier that year, he was surprised his father had taken this long to appear on his doorstep. “You’ve got to be joking. That’s my money, Paddington money, Dad. Look, I’ll deal with the bank but not now.”

“I need this, Junior, and after everything I’ve done for you–”

Tony choked back a laugh. “Everything…? I can’t deal with this… Jethro?”

Jethro asked, “What d’you need?”

“Just get me out of here,” Tony begged. The edges of his vision were getting dark and he was afraid he was going to embarrass himself by passing out. He could just picture his father standing over his prostrate body, saying something like, ‘He fainted. See, he’s too weak to be in charge of his own finances.’

With Jethro to lean upon, Tony made it several steps towards the kitchen before his legs started to buckle underneath him. As he fell, he heard a commotion going on at the front door, and, as if from far away, Abby crying out, “Senior! I didn’t know you were going to be here! I missed you! How’ve you…”

Then someone was at his other side, a strong hand on his elbow helping to steady him. “Let me help,” said Tim.

“Get him into the bedroom at the back,” Jethro said tersely.

“Hang in there, Tony. We’ve got you,” Tim said – the last words Tony heard before everything went black.

※÷※÷※÷※÷※


	2. Home Truths

※÷※÷※÷※÷※

CHAPTER 2 - Home Truths

He was warm, sleepy, in a nice soft bed, but then someone pulled his sweater and shirt up and wiped his side with a wet cloth. “Cold.” Tony licked his lips. Dry. He smelled the coppery scent of blood. “Hurts. Wha’s goin’ on?” he mumbled, reaching out to push the source of the pain away. His hand hit someone, hard enough for them to make a sound, but before he could strike out again, someone took hold of his hand. Their grip was sure, their palm rough. _Jethro_ , he thought.

“Now, now, Anthony, you need to allow me to fix you up.”

“Ducky?” Tony opened his eyes, just a sliver. Yep, it was the ME, playing doctor. Great. “Guess I stretched too much. Pop a stitch?”

“Three,” Jethro said grimly, clasping his hand firmly.

“Jeth?” Tony tried to sit up but Jethro prevented it by laying a hand on his chest.

“Hold him still, will you, Jethro?” Ducky requested. “You, too, Timothy, Mr. Palmer.”

Jethro’s grip shifted to his forearm, and Tim held onto his other arm; Palmer was holding his ankles. When had they had arrived? Before Tony could ask if he had any say in the matter, he caught a glint of light shining on a hypodermic needle, and a second later, felt a sharp sting in his side. “Shit! Give a guy a warning,” Tony complained. His friends, his lover – traitors, all of them – held him securely while Ducky stuck him twice more with the needle. By the time he’d finished, Tony was sweating and angry.

“I apologize, Anthony,” said Ducky, “but I need to suture this wound as soon as possible, and I didn’t have time to engage in a verbal skirmish with you about why this procedure is unnecessary, or how you are feeling ‘fine.’”

Tony shook off the people who were holding his arms and legs, although their grip had already eased. He glared at McGee and Palmer, and then at Jethro, for taking part in what he considered a violation of his personal rights. “You didn’t need to do that, _Gibbs_.”

Jethro’s face, when Tony called him Gibbs… it was plain that it hurt him, but at the moment Tony was still pissed off and his side was aching, and he didn’t care. Plus, everyone was staring at him except for Ducky, who had an annoyingly patient expression on his face. “We must wait for this to become numb,” Ducky explained. “Perhaps we should step out for a few minutes. It won’t take long for it to take effect.”

Tim and Jimmy mouthed apologies and left the small bedroom, followed by Ducky. Tony looked for Abby, but she was conspicuously absent. Then he remembered: his father. She was probably hugging the old man and telling him what a wonderful father he was, and how his own son didn’t appreciate him. “Fuck,” he muttered.

Jethro asked, “You’d prefer to go to the hospital?”

Tony sent him a look as if he were crazy. “And miss Christmas Eve? They’ll have only one doctor, some sleep-deprived resident who’s grossly overworked and probably forgot to wash his hands since the last patient. So, no.”

“Then let Ducky fix you up and stop complaining,” was Jethro’s gruff response.

“You’d complain, too, if you woke up to find your side was on fire and everyone was ganging up on you!”

Jethro’s eyes flashed in anger. “What were you thinking?”

“About what?” Tony asked, pretending he had no clue what Jethro was talking about.

“You getting up on that ladder and trying to hang the damn lights, that's what!”

Tony really didn’t want to fight, so he took Jethro’s hand and pulled him to sit on the bed at his side. He entreated, “Jethro… don’t be mad. I thought, for once, I’d do something nice for _you_. You’ve been running around taking care of me and working at the same time for the past couple of weeks, and I’ve been a pain, and I appreciate it, and I just thought…”

Jethro’s shoulders sagged, and he brought Tony’s hand to his mouth. He closed his eyes and kissed the palm. “I need you to get better,” he whispered. Raising his eyes to meet Tony’s, he gave a small smile. “I hate seeing you in pain, and I hate that there’s nothing I can do about it, except try to keep you safe.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I mean, I thought it was a good idea at the time.” Tony pulled a face. “Guess not, huh?”

Jethro shook his head. “Lucky that Duck always carries a large emergency kit in his car.”

“Lucky you had your hands full, taking care of me out there, or else you’d have punched my father,” Tony said, finding some humor in the situation.

“Yeah, well, that may still happen before the night’s over. But I don’t care about him. I care about you, and I want you to get back on your feet, Tony. You’ve got to stop doing stupid things.”

“Fine. I won’t do anything else stupid, or, at least not until I’m all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” Tony promised.

Jethro said, “And… don’t call me Gibbs. Not like that.”

“I won’t. I didn’t mean it.” Tony tugged Jethro down for a kiss, and what was meant to be a brief, soft meeting of their lips became something more, with tongues tangling and angling of heads and someone – was that Jethro? – moaning.

As quickly as it had begun, it ended. Jethro pulled away, gasping. “Did I hurt you?”

Okay, so maybe it had been _him_ who’d moaned. “No, I can’t feel anything. Better tell Ducky my side’s numb now.” Tony smiled, suddenly feeling good. “I guess if I want more than kisses I’d better heal up quickly.”

※÷※÷※÷※÷※

Tony awoke, and a glance at the bedside clock told him it was seven. For a moment he thought it was morning but then he remembered what had happened, and saw it was dark outside. The area that Ducky had stitched up throbbed, a dull ache. Gingerly touching it, he found a heavy bandage taped in place. God, he was so tired of this. Getting shot by a scared seaman with shaky hands, and bleeding all over the company car while Jethro drove like a crazy man to the hospital had been bad enough, but the four-inch incision from where they’d had to open him up and dig around for the bullet shards hadn’t healed properly. His little escapade on the ladder, trying to string those lights… damn, he’d messed up.

The sound of voices emanated from another room. Muffled. He could hear the clatter of dishes, clinking glasses. Laughter. Dining room, he thought. Sniffing, he detected the delicious aroma of cooked turkey. He hoped Jethro had tossed his dad out, because he really didn’t want to face him.

He was contemplating getting up the door slowly opened. Abby stuck her head in. “Hey, Tony… just checking how you’re doing.”

“Good timing. You can help me up.” With Abby’s assistance, Tony rolled onto his good side and levered himself into a seated position, while keeping pressure the area over the incision. He said, “I keep picturing it’s like a zip-lock bag, and if I twist the wrong way, it’ll open up again.”

Abby assured him Ducky had done a thorough job of cleaning the wound and suturing it again. She described the procedure in great detail until Tony asked her to stop. “I love watching him working on a live person,” Abby said with a grin. Her smile faded and she sat beside Tony. “Your dad…”

Tony shook his head but he managed a small smile. “He get booted out into the frozen tundra yet?”

“That’s not funny, Tony. He came all the way here to see you.”

“He came here for his own benefit, believe me.”

“He brought you a gift.”

“You know he gives me power tools every year. I donate them to Habitat,” Tony said with a shrug.

“I think you’re being unreasonable and unfair and… and un-son-like,” Abby said, pouting.

Tony really didn’t want to have to tell Abby the truth, but this was a conversation that was long overdue. He took her hand and said, “Abby, I need to you listen to me, to _hear_ me. Will you do that?”

She must have seen how serious he was because she nodded. “Okay. Only…I don’t _really_ want to hear this, do I?”

“No, but you need to.” After a big sigh, Tony said, “My father is a conman who has made it his lifelong business to swindle and defraud people, both in small and very large ways. He’s been after my trust fund for years and that’s why he’s here tonight. He’s what they used to call a slippery fellow. He’s been the frontman for some of the biggest swindlers in the country for years; he’s the guy they send out to warm up the room, seducing the widows and sucking up to the well-to-do, using every trick in the book to get them to invest in whatever his latest scheme is. He’s very good at putting on this handsome, appealing public face. But that’s all it is. The man out there, who you hug and admire, who tells you how gorgeous and smart you are, he’s a criminal, Abby.” She started to interrupt but Tony continued. “You know how I told you he left me in a hotel room in Hawaii when I was a kid?” She nodded, seeming to know that whatever he was about to say was not going to be good. “Let’s just say he didn’t leave me alone.”

Abby looked at him, disturbed by what Tony was revealing. “Oh no…Tony!”

“He gave the hotel key to some guy he’d met at the bar, and told him to look after me. And when that man was finished with me, he handed the key over to another one…”

“No, Tony!”

“Until Senior came back, five days later.”

“Tony, you’re hurting my hand!”

“What? Oh, shit, I’m sorry…” Tony let go of Abby’s hand with an apologetic look.

Abby threw her arms around him and hugged him, but not too hard. She started rocking him a bit. “It’s okay,” Tony assured her.

“No it’s not! It’s not okay! Don’t you dare say that!”

With a slight smile, Tony told her, “I’ve dealt with it. I don’t think about it anymore. I only told you because you keep pushing him at me, and I don’t want anything to do with him. I’ve got Jethro now, and he’s promised not to kill Senior, but he has my permission to toss him out or punch him, if he wants to.”

“I’m so sorry. Sooo sorry!” After Abby stopped sniffling on Tony’s shoulder she straightened her spine and said in a determined voice, “I’m going out there, and if that… that piece of bottom-of-the-pond scum is still here, I’m going to personally throw him out and…”

Tony laughed, even though it was sort of sad that this was Christmas Eve and he’d incited Abby to violence. “I’d like to see that. How about you help me to my feet, ’cause I gotta take a leak, and then we can both go out together.”

“Deal.”

※÷※÷※÷※÷※

Abby waited until Tony was settled on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate in his hand and a large piece of raisin ginger cake (with white glacée icing and cherries on top) sitting on the coffee table within easy reach. She then moved in on Dinozzo Sr., pushed him repeatedly until he was out the front door and standing on the snowy front porch, and gave him a final, big shove that sent him tumbling down the steps.

Ducky watched the proceedings with an amused smile, as if it were dinner theater, and poured himself another hot toddy. Jimmy and Breena, eggnog in hand, weren’t quite sure what was going on so they stayed out of the way. McGee stepped forward to act as Abby’s backup, not needing to ask any questions.

DiNozzo Sr. protested all the way, of course, and Abby yelled at him, an invective-laced hate-fest for hurting her Tony, ending up with, “and don’t you ever darken this door again!” before she slammed it shut.

Jethro nodded proudly at her and reached over to lock the front door. “I would’ve punched him if given the chance.”

“He’s gone and we won’t talk about him anymore, right?” Abby asked. “He’s dead to us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jethro replied.

Tony took a bite of cake and said through a grin, “Mmmm. ‘ou should ‘ry this. Good.”

“We need some music,” McGee said, and put some Christmas music on.

There was a loud banging on the front door, and Jethro said, “I’ll take care of this.”

Senior was spluttering and complaining, and demanding to know what Abby’s problem was.

Jethro stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance, but when it became apparent that Senior wasn’t shutting up and going away anytime soon, he interrupted the flow of words by grabbing him by the throat. “Now you listen to me, you pompous asshole! You are never to step foot on my property, or show up at the Navy Yard again. I’m armed and not afraid to protect what’s mine – and that includes Tony. I know what you did to him, and you’re damned lucky you’re leaving here with your balls intact.”

“He’s my son! He’s a DiNozzo and–”

“You’re wrong, you little worm,” Jethro retorted. “There’s nobody here by that name.”

“What’re you talking about?”

By that time, Tony had risen from the couch – carefully – and had gone to stand by Jethro’s side. Jethro glanced at him before turning back to Senior. “Starting immediately, this man is going to be known as Tony Gibbs. He’s giving up the name you gave him, and he’ll never speak to you or deal with you in any way, never again. So if you even come close, we’ll deal with you and–”

Abby stepped up and put her arm around Tony and finished, “And I know how to get rid of a body and leave no trace!”

The moment Senior opened his mouth to object, Jethro let a punch fly, his fist slamming into his face. Senior staggered back and Jethro hit him again, sending the older man tumbling off the porch. He slammed the front door shut and locked it again. “Turn up the damned music, McGee, and give everyone a drink,” he called out.

“You’re saying you think I should change my name to Gibbs?” asked Tony.

“Well, yeah,” Jethro said, as if that was a stupid question.

“Did you even think about asking me? Talking this over first?”

“I was gonna do it the right way,” Jethro maintained.

“The right way?”

“Sure, down on one knee, hiding the ring in a cake…”

Tony turned to look at the big piece of cake he’d been eating. “You didn’t…”

“Oh, no. Not that cake. I thought maybe on New Year’s,” Jethro said. “Chocolate cake with fudge icing.”

Tony raised one eyebrow. “On New Year’s… you’re going to do _what_ , exactly?”

Jethro inhaled deeply, then took both of Tony’s hands, and said clearly, “Will you marry me, Tony? Be my Mr. Gibbs?”

“Anthony D. Gibbs…. Hmmm, has a nice ring to it,” Tony said with a brilliant smile.

“Well?” Abby demanded, jumping up and down excitedly.

“Got a ring, Boss?” asked McGee, grinning.

Ducky intervened, saying, “I am sure we can locate a temporary ring, Jethro, so you will be able to ask for the dear boy’s hand. _In matrimonium ducere_.”

Gibbs shook his head and called out, “The hell with the ring. Palmer, where’s that damned mistletoe?”

Tony laughed and hugged his lover, saying, “About damn time, and yes, I would love to marry you.” Even before Jimmy ran over and held a sprig of mistletoe over their heads, Tony and Jethro were locked in an embrace, kissing, laughing and loving each other, with their true family gathered around.

※÷※÷※÷※÷※ ※÷※÷※÷※÷※


End file.
